Fall From Grace
by SparkofLeaves
Summary: A counterpart to Legend of the Exile. This details one man's journey into discovery, dehumanity, and vengeance. Tormented by fate, disfigured by agony, he will become the terrifying enemy of the world: Giratina the Exile.
1. Death

**Fall From Grace: Death**

Author's note: This story contains spoilers for War of Vengeance and Legend of the Exile.

* * *

The blade plunged into my heart, a more excruciating pain than my screams could relate as I stared up into the crimson eyes that had wrought death upon the world. What bruise, what cut, what blow could elicit such horrible pain from me, such terrible agony that ripped through my body, but the most fatal?

"You... murderer," I cried as I stared up into the beast's eyes, more blood than I knew I had in my body splashing down my clothes. I lay trapped in midair in the being's embrace, the terrible violet blade with its blackened handle buried up to the handguard into my chest. How could the face of the ghastly monster I saw before me be the face of a crusader, a revolutionary, respected and admired by his minions when naught but needless bloodshed dripped from his claws? "Why? Why do you hate us so?"

And then, the terrible features seemed to soften ever so slightly, the crimson slits of rage lessening the slightest degree in intensity. "How can I help but destroy my tormenters?" hissed Giratina, its ashen-gray scales seeming to blur in my agony, its cruel voice with all the intensity of a lion's roar.

The tentacles released their steely grips on my my wrists and ankles, allowing me to tumble to the ground as the skies raged with crimson lightningabove. As my Pokemon surrouned me, I felt the raw throb of pain in my ribcage, clawing at my insides. "How can I not crush the ones who left me to my exile?"

My vision swam as the brunt of my fall struck me, and Giratina's words became blurred together. I couldn't be dying, not when there was so much more to live for. Not when my Pokemon still needed to be protected. Not when my brother would stand alone against the darkness, with his world crumbling away around him the way mine had.

"Remember this day, Slicksten Silversky," rasped Giratina, its terrible stare flaring up with crimson hatred as it stared deep into my soul. "Remember that you died alone, powerless to protect what you loved so dearly, unaided by your fellow mankind! Remember the day of your death always in the afterlife, Slick!"

I strained my eyes high up towards the Exile, the dreadful words he spoke ringing in my ears as the hazy figure of Giratina dissapated. A cough came from my mouth as I lay helpless and dying on the churned earth, my blood wet and sticky and thick as it leaked from my chest onto the ground. The weight of the sword vanished from my chest; and as my hand groped for the hilt of the blade that had impaled me, I could find nothing but my own mangled flesh.

As my eyesight faded and dimmed to black, I could make out the barest outline of a short weeping creature with a golden-brown body, the strength draining from my limbs. The voice spoke out, cried out my name in horror, salty tears of dread streaming from the gray spots that were all I could see of its eyes... and a lone name came to my lips like a wisp. "Sparktail."

A message of... of comfort needed to be spoken. A final light of hope had to be lit in my old friend's mind. My head swam as my vision faded to fog, the barest cries of distant grief in my ears. "Don't... don't cry... for me," stammered the raw creature that I had become. "You've got... to run... and... survive!"

Then the crude hull of the world's remnants disintegrated into darkness, and everything that I knew and loved was taken from me as I sank back into the shadows.

* * *

_There was no order in the realm of death, no time and no space; no sun and no moon; no earth, no sea, no sky. Seconds and minutes slowed to a crawl around me, a fleeting eternity, a black heaven; I was a lonely soul cast into the hungry abyss. And above me loomed the dark prescence who had torn apart the world, watching as my senses faded._

Somewhere from the bleak shadows of death, a voice called out to me from where it had lain dormant in the very depths of the cursed pit. "Mankind is but a plague upon this world that shall curse the day of its birth," screeched the terrible voice, which was cruel and proud in its hatred. "Selfish beings who would bring death upon our heads. It is time that we ascended our rightful place as rulers of this world! Listen to me, I who have been cast through time and out of time by my own peers, time and time again. I am the Exile."

Who am I, wondered I as I lay in the swirling Void, and what am I? I was a living entity once. Images began to surface in my mind unbidden, the briefest flashes of recollections. A Pikachu wandering towards a stone-walled fountain with a distant look in his eyes. An Leafeon emerging from the undergrowth of thickened forest, her hazel eyes lighting up in excitement as they met mine. An infant Eevee who lay helpless and shivering amidst a wide expanse of city pavement, his whimpers unheeded by the wandering people. A Mudkip who gazed up at me apprehensively in fear as I held him in my hands.

Each image shone bright in my memory with searing light, images which I would never behold for myself. For now I was nothing. I had fallen into the darkest chasm of death, and there was nothing left at all. I had no more terror, for there was nothing more to fear; no more agony, for I had nothing left to be hurt; no more horror, for there was no further to fall. In this final nightmare, only the devil waited for me.

* * *

_I saw a man clad in blue mail whose armor was plated with silvery steel, clutching a magnificent broadsword adorned with a jewel upon its very hilt as he strode across an infinitely vast translucent-blue marble floor. His eyes shone with carefree light as he paced, as if he had all the time in the world to himself. I watched the armored men from my nothingness- from my place that was not a place, with my self that was not a self- and was awed by the aura of confidence he emanated. _  
_  
Now two other warriors joined the first one's side, one of similar stature to the first, and the other younger and shorter. This one wore white chainmail of which the collar was red, with gauntlets and boots which were tinted the green of living grasslands. The one of similar height to the plate-armor warrior wore a long silvery-white cloak that reached down to his ankles, the back pattered with stripes of indigo which matched the mask of navy-blue feathers that adorned his eyes._

As the first warrior noticed the other two, he turned on one heel to face them directly, revealing the grave expression upon his features. I glanced up towards the sky, and saw only bleak darkness in the distance above them. Then, as I looked back to the three men, the dim light that barely illuminated the marble tiles slowly began to falter and fade. The three men began to speak in hushed, fearful tones, their anxiety steadily rising as the darkness descended upon them. Then as the very last of the light faded away, I heard a bloodcurdling scream from the heart of emptiness.

Now I saw three teenagers standing on a plane of dark gray stone, two male and one female. The first wore a dark blue sweatshirt and pants with golden vessel-like shapes on either pant leg, with orange spikes on the sweatshirt's turtleneck collar and white on the back. The girl wore a jade-green shirt and tan jeans, accompanied by chocolate-brown gloves and boots as her golden-brown hair draped past her shoulders. The other boy wore orange-dyed pants and a jet-black windbreaker over a tan shirt. The three began to converse together in a fearful huddle, their tones urgent and thick with tension, though most of their words were indistinguishable. Only the briefest catches of phrases reached my ears that were not ears. "Keep him happy and satisfied," said one. "He's causing grief, but I can't bring myself to tell him," said another. "I don't know what's right and what's wrong to do here," spoke the third.

On the edge of my vision, I saw a young teenage boy no older than I was, quivering in fear as he watched the other three. The features of the room and the three were sharper and clearer around the boy, as if the others were but shadows that he could not tear his eyes from. He wore a faded tan t-shirt that was lighter on the torso and darker on the back, beige jeans accompanied by brown shoes and gloves. In his eyes, I saw mingled sorrow and fear churning together in a cyclone of confusion, minced with self-doubt and guilt.

The warrior with silver-plated blue chainmail lay amidst a garden of brown-dead weeds, his face and body covered in numerous wounds and scars that leaked blood through the links of his armor. A moan of pain escaped his mouth as he lay sunken in a thick mud puddle, his armor tarnished from serene silver to copper-red. As I gazed upon the decayed rotting garden, an ominous figure emerged from the shadows on the edge of my vision. He wore a long black cloak that reached down to his ankles and was striped with red and gray down the front, and his eyes burned with hateful red light beneath his gilded triangular headdress adorned with a crescent-moon crest.

The Exile gazed upon the fallen warrior with a malignant grin, his crimson-tipped claws tightening their grip on the hilt of his violet blade. Then as I watched, the Exile set his claw-fingers to the cavity in the warrior's armor where a vivid blue gemstone had once adorned its chestplate, forcing his cruel black-veined hand into the man's armor. At once, the warrior's eyes bulged open in horror, and an excruciating scream erupted from his mouth, and his body began to quiver with spasms.

Gauntleted hands reached for the Exile's hand as if to force it out, yet could not touch his tormentor as the Exile felt within his armor, pulses of energy that was more intense than the sun and yet also darker than pitch-black night running down the terrible being's arm into the warrior.

The twitching, flailing warrior began to mutate with every horrific spasm that rocked his body, his cobalt eyes turning to blood-red as the silver plating of his armor tarnished to deathly gold, the glowing sky-blue runes beneath the armor darkening to sulferic yellow, the teeth reshaping themselves to the wild fangs of a lone wolf. And still the man continued to scream and flail, the Exile unyielding in cruelty... but soon, I no longer could feel symapthy for the warrior.

* * *

I saw four cities far, far below me from where I gazed from beyoned the skies, from beyond the world of life.

_In the first city,_ I saw skyscrapers and mighty structures, the streets swollen with cars and the sidewalks crowded with droves of people, who wore finest suits and wielded heavy briefcases, treading the paths of their stabilized routines.

_In the second city,_ I saw farmers and plantations who stood a mile apart, toiling in the hot sun in their fields from their porches, singing to the heavens of the glorious advantages they had been blessed with over their neighbors, for their walls of white weave would shield them from the hellish flame.

_In the third city,_ I saw row after row of residences, a suburban swathe of homes in which the people lived their lives in tranquil streets. I saw schools that housed arduous labor of the mind, and I saw the adolescents whose souls were clouded with anxiety.

_In the fourth city,_ I saw rows of billboards and countless giant buildings decorated with brightly colored labels, an expanse of infinitely numerous signs and ads which jutted out into the peoples' faces, screaming of the latest and greatest they had to offer.

Suddenly, a flash of blood-red lightning slashed across the sky, and fierce hurricane clouds began to brew above the four cities.

_In the first city,_ the people gazed up into the stormclouds, unable to believe their eyes. They cursed the hurricane as they fled indoors, swearing that they had come too far in life to die now, until the buildings cracked and collapse beneath the brunt of the rain.

_In the second city,_ the farmers looked up at the hurricane to contemplate the unholy nature of the demonic storm, before lifting up their most sacred texts and nobly crying out to the powers beyond to break open the skies with righteous power, until they collapsed under the weight of their divine tomes and drowned in the sweeping flood.

_In the third city,_ the trees shook and the storm raged, until every roof was ripped open and every wall torn down, not one stone left upon a stone. Shivering and cold, the masses struggled in vain to cling to life, fighting against the inevitable death. Robbed of heat and strength, each and everyone of their hearts beat long into the night, until they breathed their last.

_In the fourth city,_ the people only clung to their shiny new inventions, their wispy fabrics and their iridescent plastic sheets, their ingots of gold and diamond; and every last one of them perished in the falling sheets of unrelenting rain, every last tawdry sign of their existence swept away.

As it left the destroyed ruins of the first four cities in its wake, the storm struck seven more towns who stood between the four great cities, each corrupt in its own unique way, and all were washed away into the night of chaos. Gone was tyranny, gone was bloodshed, gone was terror, but only the foul stench of death in the howling winds.

But for all the destruction it had caused, when at last the storm began to break, a fifth city stood alone on the distant horizon, far from the other four cities. It was like all of the four cities at once, and yet like none of them; and the people within stood strong against the storm by their thoughts and their dreams.

In that city, there was trust, friendship, hope, faith, kindness, love, and unity amongst its citizens. There was no more hatred and no more rivalry, no more fear and no more doubt, no more foolishness and no more vanity. And each time the city's harmony began to falter, a glimmering leaf appeared before the people of the town, and they remembered the price the cities of the past had paid.

* * *

"Stop acting like such an idiot," yelled the Mudkip.  
"Why didn't you care about me?" cried the Umbreon. "Why... didn't you protect me?"  
"Look, I'm sorry," sighed Chris. "There's always next year..."  
"You fool," said Steven Stone angrily, pointing an accusing finger at me. "You... you've destroyed Hoenn!"  
"Remember this day always, Slicksten Silversky," shrieked Giratina, his blood-red eyes burning deep into mine. "Remember this day when you destroyed everything that you knew and loved!"

* * *

I tried to reach out for hope, but I had no hands with which to reach. I tried to run into the light, but I had no legs with which to run. I tried to cry out in despair, but I had no mouth with which to speak. I tried to remember who I was, but I had no mind left to think. I tried to cling to life, but I had no heart left to beat. This was the darkest hour of all.

At last, I understood. Light was but a shallow, fleeting force that flickered into existence, illuminating the darkness for the briefest moment before it dissapated away into the night. In the end, only darkness remains. Darkness was not an evil, arcane force that intruded into the world. Pride, lust, wrath, gluttony, envy, greed, and sloth; sin was natural and innate, that which always had and always would exist...

* * *

_Continued in Part 2: Downfall_


	2. Awakening

**Part 2: Awakening**

Author's note: This story contains spoilers for War of Vengeance and Legend of the Exile.

* * *

The nothingness had become an infinite expanse of cold gray fog that extended out from me as far as I could see. I saw a figure approaching in the distance, his features hazy and obscured by darkness. His outline seemed to quiver and flicker as he skulked towards me, steadily growing larger with every step. Soon I was able to make out a golden pentagonal chestplate and a helm that had prongs adjacent to his ears. Soon, his face finally came into view, and I recognized the tortured warrior with the silver-turned-golden armor, his eyes blood-red as he gazed upon me.

He reached a rancid-yellow gauntlet towards me, as if to lift me up by a nonexistent hand, up onto my nonexistent feet. Suddenly, a burst of cream-colored light erupted from the center of his palm towards me, swelling outwards to engulf me. If I only I still had a voice to scream, still had legs to run and flee...

I found myself clinging to the inner rim of a massive ring-shaped platform of translucent dark-red crystal, my hind paws dangling out over a whirling vortex of shadows. The heavens high above me and the earth far below me had melted together in an atmosphere of whirling red and blue colors that extended far into the infinite distance in all directions from me as I struggled to climb up and onto the platform, my cream-colored fur rippling wildly in the fierce winds of chaos and debris.

Mustering the strength I had not felt for an eternity, I dragged myself up onto the ring platform and out of the vortex of shadows. When did I have this sleek pelt of toasted fur, these blackened tendrils? No matter. I had a self that I could call my own once more. Shivering in the brisk air of chaos, I took a deep breath and looked around to take in my surroundings.

Standing before me was a crimson-eyed dragon with four legs and a cobalt-blue body decorated with deathly-yellow veins and dark golden armor, a glowing crimson gemstone embedded in his pentagonal chestplate which shone with hateful light as it tilted back its head to let loose a mighty roar. His claws were adorned with sulfur-yellow spikes, and on his back was a five-pronged shieldplate which pointed up towards the churning sky like a dancing flame. Icy-cold fear filled my veins as I stepped back fearfully from the beast before me. And yet, my heart pounded rapidly against my ribcage- a warmth I had not felt in so long. "Where... where am I?" I asked as I gazed up into the dragon's eyes.

"Place... of... death," hissed the gold-armored dragon, small bits of foaming saliva forming on the corner of his mouth. "Before... death... all... see..." I blinked and glanced around once more, taking in the slowly swirling kalidescope of a sky in which the rubble of fallen cities and the bodies of a thousand dead rose and fell like billowing clouds of steam gushing forth from molten geysers. As I strained my eyes, I began to make out the faint outlines of castles and villages, of towers and mansions, of skyscrapers and buildings, bridges and battleships, entire civilizations which once shattered and broken to dust.

And yet for all the sea of destruction, my heart beat with a steady fervor, pushing pulses of blood streaming throughout my arteries and back through my veins. I could feel the steady rise and fall of my chest, the expansion and contraction of my lungs beneath my torso. I could see every image in crystal-clear detail, hear every whistle of the wind and every grinding bash of colliding debris resounding through the wind in full detail, take in the tang of rising scents of soaked asphalt and burning sulfur far in the distance, feel with my tendrils until I knew without a doubt that they were mine. I gave the slightest of grins as I turned around to look at the dragon. "But if this is a place of death," I countered. "Then how am I still alive?"

To this, the mighty beast's eyes narrowed to crimson dagger-like slits as he pawed angrily at the surface of the platform. "You... are... DIFFERENT," spat the dragon, the ring platform creaking as it stepped towards me. "Cursed by four deities, cursed by your fellow man. Cursed by your friends and foes alike! CURSED! CURSED! CURSED!"

And he too cursed me...

* * *

Into the distant past I sprinted, down the lonely tunnel that led back into the infinite daylight. My paws pounded hard and fast against the crystalline passage, engulfed in a whirling mass of color as my fur rippled with fiery delight. I followed the celestial path which wound through civilization and chaos, through trimuphant battles and tranquil peacetimes, through tides of natural shadow and rising light. At times, others accompanied me on my long journey; but their bodies were weak and insubstantial compared to mine which blazed with life, and they could not continue the eternal sprint.

There was a king with a golden crown and a magnificently billowing crimson cape lined with white fur, his eyes sharp with regal condescending arrogance. There was a female wolf with rippling muscles and vivid golden eyes, her fur sleek and silky as her soft-pink tongue ran seductively over her fangs with drool, her body emanating an overwhelming scent of roses. There was a great grizzly bear with a bulging belly that was swollen with girth and immense poundage, gnawing on a slab of raw meat even as it ran. There was a giant rat, its paws nimble and fast even with the massive sack on its back which brimmed with thousands of jewels and gold coins.

There was a tiger whose eyes seared blood-red with flaming passion, the stripes of his fur like a raging fire as it bared its teeth with fury. There was a creature with thick shaggy black fur and sunken bulging yellow eyes, its chin thick with streams of drool, its six-inch-long fingers clawing longingly at the air with every step it took. Then there was a great lethargic serpent whose fangs were like wicked daggers on the rare occasion that it should open its mouth the barest crack, crawling as sluggishly as if its body was as heavy as solid lead; and it gave up the journey far more quickly than the others.

Every last one of their accursed hides were buried within the purest hell. Yet I was greater EEthan all of them, for I was all of them and none of them at once. It was I who flowed into the darkness, seized it and became one with it. And it was I who ran onwards, whose paws carried himself to the brink of the eternal chaos that predated the world itself...

* * *

The darkness stood before the eternal judge of all things, the one who bore his holy wheel and saw all things. The darkness saw the One who had given light to an empty husk of a world and filled it with vibrancy, the final authority of all life and all death. He gazed into the soul darkness, and laid it bare for all to see.

I was still a dead spirit, just as dead as I was alive. I was pride and lust and greed and gluttony and wrath and envy and sloth. I was a soul of nature itself, the embodiment of the dark desires that were eternal. I was Despair and Ruin, I was Calamity and Decay. Darkness flowed unto me, and I flowed into him.

"I am the keeper of the dark gates," I whispered as I ascended into life. "I am the bound spirit, the ghost of the dead. I am Giratina." At once, the One raised his head to the sky with a mighty roar to send shockwaves hurling through the air, and the final chains of death that had bound me fell away from me with a flare of brilliant light, I who knew himself truly.[/i]

I blinked and stared at myself as I slowly rose to my feet, my translucent fluid body that was both more than the nothingness of the void, and yet less real than any living flesh. I stared at my body, sewn from the paltry fabric of death, and I feared to move, lest my body collapse into dust.

My fingers found a scar just beneath my ribcage, and I glanced down to see a diamond-shaped streak of red that ran down the center of my chest where I had been dealt a fatal wound. "Some things cannot be taken away," hissed the voice from beyond the veil. "Some wounds are too terrible to erase forever."

But I smiled, for the remnant of the wound would remind me forever that I was alone to face my foes when I died, that my tormentors could never be forgiven. My past was dead and gone, the pitiful weakling of my old life nothing but a myth now. I would unite the world of the wilderness and the world of civilization, and forever would the creatures of the earth know my name!

Then the One placed a golden headdress before me, a triangular helm that split down the middle and was adorned with a crescent-shaped crest. I took the crown, gazed into the empty visor for a moment of delight, and then placed it upon my head, the golden horns slipping into place.

Then, as I let go of the crown, six golden claws painfully forced their way out from the sides of my ribcage, and my translucent flesh quickly paled to ashen gray, filling me with agonized screams and bringing me to my knees. Six thick black tentacles exploded from my back, each tipped with with a glowing crimson spike, and the world flashed deathly gray and bloody scarlet before my burning red eyes.

But when the pain finally died away, I gazed up at the Original One, and I felt the tide of darkness forming upon me, enshrouding my body in a wave of death-shadows that could blot out the sun. Bneath the woven darkness, my flesh was imbued with life by the power over death, and I no longer felt raw and helpless. I raised my maw to the churning green skies, and let out a mighty shriek of joy, my eyes gleaming bright like rubies.

For I was power itself, the embodiment of all that was and ever would be, the eternal shadow and the infinite night. I was the beast who had been cast into the eternal abyss, but clawed my way back up into the realm of the living. I was the dragon who guarded life and death, I who saw serenity in the most turbulent chaos and love in the most violent war. Six legs, six golden claws, and six crimson spikes screamed of our sheer power. We stood before the gate of the final darkness, and he dwelled in the very core of the earth. We were the shadows once forgotten long ago and now again, one and the same forevermore. "GI-RA-TI-NA!"

* * *

I stood beside my seven brothers and sisters, my eyes glinting with crimson light as we gazed together up towards the impending doom high above us. The Invader, the being who would make the world neither dead nor alive and claim it as its own, hurled down through the atmosphere towards us.

I looked to each of my brethren, my friends and family who were my allies. Ho-oh of the rising sun. Lugia of the dreaming moon. Kyogre of the raging storm. Groudon of the molten crater. Rayquaza of the divine wind. Dialga of crystalline time. Palkia of woven space. And I, Giratina of living death.

"Fire and earth and sea and sky; time, space, spirit, and shadow nigh," chanted Rayquaza, the eldest of the eight. "The ancient hero gives his mythic call; by life and light, the shadows fall." As the coming of the Invader drew near, we glanced to each other, and then sprang up into the air to meet the Invaders with outstretched claws and fangs...

* * *

An eternity had passed since we drove back the Invaders, and in all that time the eight of us had drifted apart. No longer were we inseparable alllies, but distant rivals. Why had things decayed so much? Why did we no longer speak to each other and see eye-to-eye? Why had we become so separated and so unwilling to communicate, and why had we built up such barriers between each other?

The distance between the eight of us should never have formed. If only we had remained in touch, remembered how close we had once been, we would never have lost our connections. I saw myself not as the greatest of the eight, but simply one of them. Yet every last one of them had cast me aside, and we no longer knew each other. Even Groudon and Kyogre, closest of spirits of all, had turned upon each other in a terrible and violent duel.

I was alone to face the eternal grief, alone upon my lonely pedastal of power. Why did I have to lose everyone I loved? Why did they leave me to my empty causes and hollow dreams? I had begun to reach past the boundary of my shell once more, tasting the light to see if it held any worth. I took stock in old ties, used my powers to protect the living from death as much as the dead from life. But the light was flat, weak, and meaningless.

I soon learned the human race had arrived in this world, and my eyes filled with alarm. A new invasion threatened to grasp hold of this world and claim it as its own, and I would rise with all my strength to defend it. Perhaps, in the face of this new peril, my siblings would soften their rivaling hearts. I called out to them from the depths of the great chasm that was my home.

I shrieked their names in the ancient tongues of spirit and flame, of time and space, of land and sea and sky. I waited for their arrival, waited for them to come to our aid, so that we might stand together against a rising evil once more. I waited and waited and waited and waited, crying out to them more desperately as the humans grew in strength and power with every year. And then, when nearly a century had passed, and not one of them had arisen against mankind, I gave into defeat.

If they want to abandon us, I thought bitterly, then I shall let them. I hated them all for how they recoiled from me, despised them for who they were. They were bodies of light, no less alien to this world than the Invader. But I was the darkness! I was the eternal shadows that all things were born with! I was Giratina!

They would all pay. Every last one of them would die, and the last thing they would see before death would be my vengeance. But before I struck at my brethren, I would raise my own forces against humanity. I would rally the living and the dead to my side and obliterate mankind in a tide of shadow. The power of the innate dark would not succumb to this vile scourge that threatened to engulf the world!

* * *

When my forces first stepped out into the open, Dialga and Palkia and their knights rose up to meet them in battle. For ten years we clashed viciously, dragon against dragon, brother against brother, warriors against warriors, destroyers against destroyers, and in all that time neither they nor I had gained an advantage.

We were locked into a bitter struggle that would never cease, our legendary cries rallying forth fresh waves of soldiers to our sides. Foolish beasts! Did they not understand what I intended to protect the world from? Did they not see the impending doom that would soon arrive on the shores of this continent? I would destroy the ones who would change us, crush every last one of the human race.

Locked into a ten-year stalemate, unable to advance and unable to retreat, we called upon the grim reaper, the collector of souls, the one who delivered the spirits to the realm we guarded. In a moment of desperation, we sent the Nachtfurien to sabotage Temporal Tower, Dialga's home and the lone pillar that held the flow of time in balance.

I never expected him to succeed, yet I was stunned at how close he came to ripping that pillar of time to bits... and at how narrowly Dialga snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. I sent forth my servant y to take his revenge on the mudkip and the vulpix whom Dialga had called out to, I retreated into the Chasm and declared a truce with Dialga and Palkia, for I realized there would be no purpose to fight them any longer. I watched as Kyogre created the Beast of the Sea and Groudon created Krakatoa, and I believed they would not weaken themselves with shallow promises of light.

And then came the day that humanity arrived on the shores of Kanto, and my blood began to boil with fury as I hurled myself into the forge of war with a bloodlusting fervor. Mankind would not destroy me; they would not corrupt the world with their folly! I would crush them all and scatter their ashes across the world, destroy them before they tore me down from my place!

Ghosts of fallen souls flickered into existence before my eyes, their corpses rising from the dust to heed my cry. I extended my wings of blackest night that could sweep aside the scattered dust of stars and blot out the evening sky, and I channeled forth my infinite energy into the crimson glowing spikes on my wings. I smashed gravestones and crypts and fashioned thousands upon thousands of cursed keystones from the deathly rubble, fusing the spirits of the long-dead into these foci of sulfuric darkness.

* * *

I drew forth the fiber of pure shadows from darkest hell and wove them into cloaks of utter death. And when my labor was complete, I dove into the darkest depths of Distortion, into the Void from which Arceus himself had been born an eternity ago. There, in the Forge of Malice, I forged a blade of darkness, a weapon that embodied all that I was. By this blade, I swore, I would destroy my tormentors forever. As I summoned my legions of shadows to my aid, I swept upon the humans like a raging maelstrom...

But then Rayquaza awoke to their cries, swooping down from his divine perch to heed the frantic summons of man. It was Rayquaza the Patriarch, the first of the Eight, Father of the Skies, who raised his forces to clash with mine in the name of light. He bound the souls of Groudon and Kyogre togther to bring an end to their conflict, and together the three Titans of Hoenn united their great armies against me to save the pitiful tide of mankind.

They were soon joined by Dialga and Palkia, who still bore anger against me from our first war; and not too long after, the humans cried out for the aid of Lugia and Ho-oh as well. I sent my soldiers against them again and again, bitterly forcing them to drive viciously through our foes to destroy mankind. Yet even with my centuries of preparation, our battles were bloody and futile...

The world had turned upon me, betraying me before the eyes of all to see. I was cast down from my high pedastal, torn down from my shrine of power by my own peers. Groudon, Kyogre, Rayquaza, Lugia, Ho-oh, Dialga, and Palkia rose to the terrified cries of humanity where they had ignored my own fearful summons, turning upon me and declaring me a violent rogue for my war. I was stripped of my armies by my family, chained and bound to the crude label of vile miscreant, and exiled by humans and Pokemon alike into the world of chaos.

I saw how Groudon, Kyogre, and Rayquaza gave up their Orbs and placed them in human hands. I saw how Lugia hid himself far from human eyes, retreating deep within his shimmering sanctuary. I saw how Palkia and Ho-oh swore covenants with mankind, promising to protect them so long as humanity showered them with gifts of pearls and gold and honored them forever.

I watched bitterly as Dialga- whom I hated most of all- gave humans the Hidden Land and called it "Sinnoh", burying Temporal Tower deep within the landmass until only the uppermost spire was visible. How could they tolerate the human race, and allow them to permeate every corner of the world with their corruption? How could they betray me so easily- I, who had only longed to stand beside them in battle?!

As I lay adrift in the chaos, beaten and weary from the wounds my most terrible foes and my former allies had inflicted upon me, I felt for the ancient scar upon my chest... and I remembered how I had been betrayed and abandoned to die so long ago.

The vengeance shall never subside for me, thought I furiously as I soared through the foul winds of Distortion. The eternal tragedy would forever haunt me and repeat itself for me, and I would always suffer at all the hands of the rest of the world. Gazing deep into the swirling void at the heart of the chaos, I narrowed my eyes to crimson dagger-like slits, thrashing my tentacle-wings against the endless sea of debris, consumed in a surge of infinite fury.

From the cycle of fates, a single mind rose from the ashes, hideous and raw- yet fierce and destructive. For now I saw as darkness saw, heard as darkness heard, sensed as darkness sensed. I saw now that everything was corrupt in the world of order, and everything was meaningless in the world of chaos. One day, I swore, I would return from my exile, and set things right in a wave of death and destruction. For I was the Exile, and all the world would feel my wrath!


	3. Adversary: Memory

**Adversary (Part 1)**

Author's note: This story contains spoilers for Legend of the Exile.

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We stood as if evenly matched, one against one, blade against blade, in the heart of the forge I had called both prison and home. Light and darkness, virtue and aggression, eye to eye, we circled the den as warriors. And all the while came the shrieks of my soul, the barely restrained fury, never to rest, never to heal, always to relish the savagery of war...

I stared into the Raichu's eyes, aghast and furious. How?! How could it be Sparktail who fought me, Sparktail who attacked me, when he had always been the weakest link, the foolish one? Why had Insyte stood idly by, and what had happened to Rush? Where were the ones I had once loved, the ones that fate had ripped from me?

Fury began to seethe like a poison through my black veins. I had devoted my entire life to these wretched Pokemon, giving them all that I had; I had died for their worthless, insignificant lives! If not for them, I would be alive. If not for them, I would have been spared the agony of the millenia, lost and alone, trapped forever in a living hell.

And now they defied all that I stood for, rejecting me and all my works, the oaths I had sworn; and instead they turned to the cruel light of their gods, embracing earth and sky, the world known and the world unknown. I would taste their blood and flesh before I let the last lights fly from their eyes!

- M - E - M - O - R - Y -

I had stoked the black fire for eight thousand years, feeding the aggressive energies of the world to its hungry flames, watching and waiting. The Void had been allowed to exist since time immemorable; and so I let the foolish creatures of the world believe that there was no evil, that there was no true malice, that there was no cold, that there was no darkness.

It always amused me, to see what the humans thought of these creatures called Pokemon, so similar in appearance and yet so vastly different from the ones they called 'animals', who were on the verge of extinction. Emboars and "pigs", Milktanks and "cows", Combusken and "chickens". At first, the humans were reluctant to feed off the Pokemon as they had with the animals, but when the last animals died, they had no choice.

Am I the bringer of nightmares, or am I the reciever? When I recede into the shadows, and let my mind fade into dust, I see a shining blade in the hands of a human with stern eyes. I see a Charizard with shredded wings, his claws long and golden. I see a Gardevoir with swaying white robes, clutching a spear of blue crystal. Crouching by their feet is a young boy, holding a pair of knives. Then, I see an older man with gold cuffs on his wrists. They stand together as one power, one force, the eyes of my enemies, the ones who vanquished me.

Few were willing to accept that the Pokemon were, deep down inside, still animals. Only when the humans adopted them, cared for them, trained them to be strong, would the Pokemon forego their bestial ways. Perhaps it was then that I first began to resent how humanity tamed us, how they controlled us, weakened us, held us back. Perhaps it was then that the first seeds of war first took root...

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I had come to despise the man I once was, that hideous shell of a human, now broken and dead for good. I had sworn to destroy the awful legacy that my old self had built up! I had sworn to prove that we Pokemon were savage and dangerous, to avenge thousands of years of mankind's oppression.

Was it Mewtwo who freed us? We do not remember now; yet we remember seeing the greatest of all Pokemon transformed into a hideous abomination of war at the hands of greed-wallowing humans. We remember how he broke the bells and destroyed the first seal upon us, how he helped us wreak havoc upon mankind once more...

When I seized my rightful throne, Dialga and Palkia rose up to fight me as surely as if I had summoned them. Perhaps they expected a swift and easy fight, but they had forgotten what powers I had regained, and each of them fell. To hear Palkia's dying screams was music to my ears; so too were Dialga's agonized screams.

I left Palkia's broken corpse in the Forests of Ilex to rot, but I had not yet finished with the Dialga, and so I locked him within the abyss to join the dark spirit. When the king's armor and blood tarnished to gold, the cycle of revenge would be complete, and I would watch as my brother tore apart the cities who called him a god!

I see now that the tainted souls of Hearthome's dead have stirred a powerful hunger within the Void. With each passing day, it grows larger and stronger, and from the depths come living shadows to strengthen my army, to shatter mankind's hold on fellow Pokemon, to stir the hearts of the wilderness. When the Void has claimed the Four Virtues, and reaches the peak of its power, all things shall see the world's blackened truth- and even Arceus himself will be unable to stop this dark crusade.

The Void speaks to me of bygone times when men were thrown into the abyss to die, and it fed off their misery until they turned to dust. My machine of war is rolling strong, and with each city that falls, I shall feed the once-great humans to the Void, letting it strip them of all that they were. From darkness we came, and to darkness we return!

- M - E - M - O - R - Y -

Far to the east lived the one called N, the human idealist who rejected his fellow man's truths to forge a reality of his own. The one who despised the human opression of Pokemon as much as I did, the one who would sacrifice his humanity for Pokemon as I had. He was one of the human race's best and brightest hopes for the future.

He sought to destroy the foul human regime of Pokemon battling, just as I did; yet at the same time, he worked to cast whatever barriers he could between humanity and Pokemon. With the angelic goddess of divine fire, N was prepared to create a world in which Pokemon would live alone from humans, ready to restore to Pokemon the ancient glorious days of the Golden Age.

It was because of his wretched father, who was the epitome of all things I despised of humans, for which I turned my back upon Team Plasma, and sowed the seeds of N's great defeat at the hands of the black dragon. My lone regret is that in my scheme, I allowed another human hero rose to glory. And yet, it shall be worth the price, for I shall enjoy feasting upon Ghetsis' blood one day...

But Unova shall wait, for there are greater prizes to wash in red. Humanity has spread too far, across too many lands; the disease is strongest in the lands of Sinnoh, Hoenn, Johto, and Kanto, and their bodies shall sate my thirst in time. Even these, however, must wait, for I have only the solace of a world that is no world: too dark, too cold, too silent, too empty; trapped forever with meaningless delusions of war.

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The Four Virtues cower in terror. The Pokemon of the wilderness cannot stop me. Even the legendary Red cannot halt my forces rising. And though the warriors of Unova are resilient, they can only oppose me with half of its strength, and Unova's dichotomy shall be its downfall.

The Vulcanites are a powerful force to be contended with. Heatran has an admirable savagery, ruling his people as a machine of war, a factory of soldiers. And yet, he demands an unnecessary amount of discipline, to uphold the cause they fight for! How well-trained must a warrior be to kill a single, cowardly human with no Pokemon slaves to hide behind?

Darkrai has summoned more Hexwraiths to Fuschia City, ones far stronger than the Dusknoirs of Sinnoh's southern cape. Efficient, swift, and brutal; they seize their victims and spirit them away, where in their final hours, humans learn the violent truth of nature, before they are consumed body and spirit by a dominant will.

Ah, yet there are strange rumors on the wind. I have heard claims that Kyogre and Groudon broke free from their restraints. I know not why or how this would happen, but they do not answer my summons. Yet they are wild and feral, and they shall do more harm than good for the humans if they rise against me, for they embody the natural world in all its chaos.

But who should have the power to free them? I forged the Red Chains that bound them; I alone can destroy them. No human or Pokemon could hope to break the chains, when every shackle bears my aural imprint! And what manner of creature would be so bold as to enter the mundane lairs where the Orbs lie? There shall be a reckoning...

- M - E - M - O - R - Y -

Though my spirit longs to be free, I shall wait and bide my time, and retribution shall be all the greater. For now, I shall be content to rip the fat-swollen skull of Cyrus from his idiotic body. The foolish man thinks to control Dialga and Palkia with the likes of the Red Chains; what fallacy could cause him to forget that the chain's true strength only emerges when the links are forged willingly?

He comes closer, wandering and muttering as if possessed by demons, and I feel a savage joy from the shadows within me. I cannot resist, he has crossed the threshold; I reach forward and drag the old man out from his searing world, tear him from his roots and pull him into my lair. The lake guardians follows him into the undead world, as if to watch me feast on his worthless corpse.

But then come two more humans, a woman in black, and a boy with a blue jacket and a red beret. The guardians warn me that the woman has the power to destroy me with a flute if I should attack them, and they shall not leave until they know Cyrus is safe. Anger brews within me, and I reach for the great weapons; but no, I am still a powerless shadow, still cut off from myself, a paltry shell of the spirit dragon who forced the world to its knees. Furious, I reluctantly retreat into the ugly shadows, and I watch the humans search.

I cannot stand them, cannot stand the words they utter, how the boy speaks of destiny and the woman again stubbornly cries of the intrinsic good of all Pokemon, holding true to her ignorant doctrine, traveling this broken world like infants on a playground. The lake guardians do not hide; they toy with the humans, leading them onward in circles, through pits and over rocks, but the humans will not venture close enough to the Void to be consumed.

I can wait no longer, and I descend upon them in all my fury, in all my rage, attacking the boy with the hatred of two millenia. I fight to the last breath, but he has invested much riches into his warriors, and they wear me down, battering me relentlessly. With my last ounces of strength, I crush the terrible capsule he flings at me, before it can consume, and I flee into the darkness.

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_To be continued_


	4. Adversary: Revenge

**Adversary (Part 2)**

Author's note: This story contains spoilers for Legend of the Exile.

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There came a day when a Ponyta, a Spiritomb, and a Dusknoir brought prisoners to me, claiming to have captured the Four Virtues. Such wretched minions! Had they not paid attention to my warnings? The Virtues have evaded capture from humans for centuries; they will not be seized so easily, not by such weak pawns!

Then, I recognized the three Pokemon they had taken, the scent of their fur, the hidden scars. Was it was a cruel joke of the Four Virtues, for Sparktail, Thalia, and Insyte to be captured in their place? Ah, yes, the Virtues would pay, for I had no desire to see these faces. Perhaps, when I had found the rest of the set, I would take a closer look at them; but for now, I shall hand them over to Darkrai to play with...

And then I see the truth: If they have survived, so too have the others. I should have cut their throats when I had the chance, when I saw them helpless by their trainer's body! I should have ripped them to shreds and cast the pieces into the abyss! Ever stronger shall the Void rage, uniting the bloodiest shards of this wretched earth into a black maelstrom.

No longer shall I linger at this mountain, for it is the mountain of Arceus and his beloved children, not I, the black sheep, the rejected son, the weakling brother. No, I shall join my forces in their beautiful savagery; I will lead the soldiers myself, so that the world can see firsthand who commands the scarlet tide!

- M - E - M - O - R - Y -

It was not always this way, that even young boys and girls could hope to capture the beasts of legend, and even my most ancient self despised how it had become so. Once, the legends struck fear into the hearts of men; blazing firestorms, thrashing thunderbolts, withering blizzards. Once, we Pokemon could terrorize entire nations with a single sweep of our claws.

Even the most committed humans, who devoted their lives to a cause, who sought to alter the face of the world- through torrential floods, through blood-boiling sunlight- they could not master the ancient beasts of legend, for all their dedication, for all their schemes. Blinded by their pitiful humanity, they would unleash a cataclysmic power they could not hope to control.

But it all changed with the young human prodigy, Red. The greatest Pokemon Trainer to have ever lived, he earned his first badge at the age of ten, tamed Zapdos at age eleven, and became Champion at age twelve, bringing inspiration to a foolish world. Now every young trainer thinks himself or herself a prodigy in the vein of Red, and all respect for legend is gone.

And the Pokemon of the wilderness accept this folly. The Sentrets of Johto, the Rattatas of Kanto; they embrace the humans who trample into their fields, who invade their homes, who capture them and force them to battle their brethren. They condone these aliens, and allow themselves to be dragged into slavery. And the further north they live, the more willingly they submit. Truly, what madness has consumed these creatures of the world?

I have not forgotten the boy who crossed an ocean, whose father came before him. The Zigzagoon he held prisoner should have clawed out his throat! And yet with each passing day, I felt the Pokemon's aggression fade, until he submitted to the boy and his human values, fighting his own kind as a Linoone for the sake of this youth! How should it be that humans, with their blood-thinning ideals, should prove dominant over Pokemon?

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The Silver Conclave lies broken now, and mankind's destruction continues unhindered. Elias Elkwood, the legendary Swordwrit warrior who crossed time, was taking refuge on its shores, but he is no more; the oracles Solus and Stealthius, too, were found and now gone. Save perhaps the longhorn Absol, the Swordwrit shall not be a threat any longer.

Zapdos has drastically crippled the Iron Fleet; less than half of them remain, more than enough to ground the Silver Summoner with his grief, just as during the previous war. I am almost disappointed by how easily Lugia has been dealt with, but perhaps it is fitting that the true challenges come from the pestilence of humanity itself.

And yet, even as Jirachi descends into the Void to join the other two Virtues, Mewtwo's reports are troublesome. How can Slick's Pokemon still be alive, so soft-bellied and unfamiliar with the wilderness as they are? And though I freed them from my former self, they have spat upon their new freedom and rejected it. They spurned the promises of Slick, they spurn the promises of Giratina!

They are dangerous warriors, dangerous and unpredictable. I can name what they once were, yes: Sparktail was trained with the blade, and Thalia with two; but Insyte was nothing but a whimpering shadow, and now he blazes like the sun! And as for Rush-

There is no excuse for Rush! None! I can speak of how I despise the rest; but for Rush, there are no words, no light, no oath. I will peel apart his flesh piece by piece and feed it to him, for abandoning me in my hour of death; I will grind every last face he loves into blood and dust before his eyes; he will know horror and despair, a thousand deaths!

- M - E - M - O - R - Y -

A tool of destruction, Mewtwo became my sword, my avenging weapon, unearthed by men and used against men. An unknown quandry locked away for centuries in the genetic code of the Mew tribes of Guyana, his birth was a dark folly, an unforseen twist of fate. And with the blood of the world's enemies on his hands, his mind opened to my voice.

Thus, the gates of my banishment were torn open, and I took my first true breath in over two thousand years. When the bells rang their last, the elements bowed before my sword, who took command of their terror, and turned them upon the world's slavers. Stirred by wayward youths from sleep, my servants flocked to my side; for through them, humans sowed their own destruction.

Does Tyranitar still remember his bondage to the human Evice? For when I rose from the abyss, when I cried out to the wild, he was one of the first to answer my summons. Spared by the human hero Wes, he was released into the wilderness of Sinnoh years hence. Though he was weak, tainted by a soft-hearted land, I chose him for my flag, to stand beside my sword.

One by one, the cities fell before me. Fire consumed the heart of the land, and thunderous wrath destroyed its harbors. In the shadows of mankind's corruption, I discovered the nightmare incarnate; and Darkrai too joined my forces, helping to tear down all that men had built. In their dogmatic faith, in their blind worship of the gods, not one voice in Sinnoh thought to connect the destruction with me.

At Seabreak Castle, at last I saw the chosen hero emerge, Aluxiver's heir, marked for destiny by the Virtues. And yet he was not ready to oppose me; like all humans, he was weak of will, and too easy to drive away. He had none of the gifts of his ancestor; he shall be easy to destroy. I shall fear the Virtues and their empty threats no longer.

Tyranitar and Mewtwo would have slaughtered Cynthia's pet beast, but nay, I stayed their hands. For within this mute, crippled Garchomp, I saw a feral beast, extinction incarnate. I saw a spirit that embraced carnage and reveled in chaos, a streak of scarlet that would terrorize the crumbling remnants of humanity before they turned to ashes. And with all of Sinnoh broken and shattered before me, the world was mine to claim.

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Now I gaze with savage pleasure upon the burning ruins of Blackthorn, once a resilient city of dragon-slavers, but now a field of ashes. When Scarlet Streak rose against Lance and tore out his throat, did he understand the terrible wrath he incurred? Did he see the vengeance of the sacred beasts his clan had enslaved for decades, the terror of the dragons that he turned against his enemies? This was the price they paid for their centuries of

Then, as the Rhyperiors gather the prisoners, I see an old man kneeling on the ground before me, begging for us to spare his kin. But his pleas are empty; his children and their families lie strewn across the ground, and his children's children have been gathered into coffles of six, prepared for transport to the mines in Sinnoh. Coffles of six, just as the trainers bound their Pokemon.

But as I descend towards him, I see the wooden carving of a Mew in the old man's trembling hands. Mew, the one who trapped me in this cycle of destiny, who took my loved ones from me, who cast me into this cursed existence, who mocks me even in her captivity. The dark fires that consume the city are not enough to quell the fury, now! And yet my prey has gone scarce, swept off the earth by my soldiers; and all thought, all logic blurs into crimson death.

Snarling, I wrest the old man from the ground, striking blindly with open eyes, thrashing in sunlit shadow. I will not rest, until Red's blood is upon my claws, until I have ripped the great Champion from his throne and torn him apart. I will not rest, until the world is purged of humanity and their bone-splitting morals. I will not rest, until the legacy of men fades into myth forever.

- M - E - M - O - R - Y -

No, it is not Mew's fault. I know my mistake. I underestimated the chosen hero, the one who called himself Slick Silversky. Yes, he was weak as humans are. Yes, he was a coward. But I had forgotten Slick's role in history; I had forgotten the bond that joined us. And thus, I sealed my own fate.

Within days, my forces arrived in Almia, in Fiore, in Oblivia, in Kanto, in Johto, in Hoenn, and in Orre, with the rest of the world to follow after. But I soon discovered that Slick was a greater danger than I had expected. He was one of the Hoenn Elite Four, and next in line to succeed the Champion. Hoenn's militaries were always disorganized but fierce; under Aluxiver's heir, they would surely be my undoing.

I soon turned my full attention to Hoenn; for Dialga had taken the Griseous Orb to the Cave of Origin. I retreated my armies from other regions; once my soul was complete, the rest of the world Through Dusknoir spies, I soon learned Slick's weakness: He did not trust other humans. My strategy came togoether with impossible perfection... and the trap succeeded as planned.

Did Slick know his destiny then? Did he know of the sword that was his by birthright, that would have allowed him to slay me in battle? But I had already won, for the Griseous Orb was mine to wield again. With the ancient weapon I had created two thousand years ago, I descended upon Mount Pyre and slew Slick, the chosen hero, my enemy.

But in his dying moments, our eyes met; and in that instant, I saw my mistake. I had forgotten that he was protected by the Virtues' blessings; I had forgotten that I could not touch him, that he had been labeled light, just as I had been labeled darkness. I could not harm him without harming myself. And as he died, I... I experienced fear for the first time.

In an instant, all logic shattered, all senses became scattered. The Griseous Orb had rejuvenated me, but all strength vanished at that moment. I could not contain my lieutenants, and so their bodies were transformed by black fire- Mewtwo's pale rotting flesh, Garchomp's blood-red scales, Tyranitar's white skin. And so I fled into the chaos, the Devil running terrified in the depths of Hell.

He clawed his way out from the eternal abyss, no longer human, no longer alive, but a mindless beast, an offshoot of Dialga's madness. Still weakened, I struck with all my power, with all my fury; but just as on the day that humans entered Distortion, I could not repel my enemy. Cursed by Primal Dialga with awareness, cursed by the Virtues with his survival, he triumphed over me in violence. Against my will, he flowed into me, and I flowed into him.

Thus the spirit infiltrated me, sprinting into the distant past, burrowing into ancient memories with fiery delight, through civilization and anarchy, through war and peace, through natural darkness and rising light. And he seized from me my rightful throne, claiming the mantle of the final gate for himself, immersing himself in me until he saw as darkness saw, heard as darkness heard, felt as darkness felt.

Defeated, I sank to the ground, stripped of my power, stripped of my flesh, stripped of myself. I saw the dying scar appear on the great serpent's body, saw the new Exile rise from my ahses, hideous and raw, but fierce and vengeful. I saw a demon who was once human, but was no longer.

As I fall into the Void, a broken, withered spirit, I see the tragic irony of the Virtues' victory. Slicksten Silversky defeated Giratina, but now he has become Giratina. I was wrong to think he had none of his ancestor's gifts, for he had the burning gift that drove Aluxiver to defeat me: a gift of passion. At last, I understand the truth; but I am powerless to break the cycle of fates, the endless tragedy of the Exile, forever doomed to echo itself in meaningless conflicts.

Though my memories linger, it shall be Slick's revenge that escalates the war, that brings the world to its knees. Twisted by death, corrupted by his own madness, he has lost his own humanity, replaced with a feral rage more terrible than mine. He will wage war where I would choose caution; he will slay those who I would isolate for further study. The Virtues have won against me, but they have lost the world- for they have created a more vicious Giratina than I could ever be!

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At last I saw what my enemies had done, what self-righteous judgement they had imposed upon me. I saw how Lugia and Ho-oh had twisted fate upon me, taking my greatest joys and transforming them into weapons against me. Fire brewed within my soul, the fire of a thousand scars, and I raised my blade high, fingering the Griseous Orb.

The black spirit whom I cast into the abyss yearns to be free, but his crusade, his cause, his war is mine! None shall call me human now, for even Giratina was more human than I. Let the world know this: I have become death, I have embraced my exile, I am the world's true adversary, I am Giratina.

Whatever wizardry Lugia had concocted, to twist all my children so, would not stand against me and my fire! Sparktail was but a mouse, and I was the great serpent. Predator against prey; he would fall before me easily. For now, I would play with this Raichu, allow him to believe that he stood the faintest chance; and then, when I was done, I would dipose of him.

- E - N - D -


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